Waiting Game
by Tie-grr
Summary: Haytham gets lost in thought when waiting around in an ambush. Set in several different times, rated for language. Game Spoilers within.


He was getting too old for this, he was the Grand Master for a reason, the people under him were supposed to do this. But in all honesty he wanted to track down Church himself. Most likely anybody else would just screw up. Benjamin Church was a slimy bastard and had so far escaped his efforts to track him down. But he had received word of Church stealing a shipment intended for Washington and his forces, the shipment had been brought through the old abandoned church he was currently approaching. If the empty carts nearby, broken ones too, were anything to go by this place had long since been abandoned. Even by Church's men. But there was every chance they would return so he would lie in wait for them, an ambush in the waiting.

Now, where to hide. There were regular patrols of redcoats outside, one of which he already had to dodge, so hiding outside of the building was out of the question. It wasn't the best place for an ambush anyway. No, he would have to hide inside the church. Only issue with that was that the building was just a large, empty room. The rafters. Above his head there was a horizontal beam just in reach. A vertical pillar dominated the centre. A perfect assassin's perch, he nearly chuckled at the irony.

Reaching it was easy enough, a quick dash at the wall and his boot gripped long enough to give him a one up to catch the rafter. He hauled himself into a crouching position, leaning his shoulder heavily against the vertical pillar. He hoped somebody would turn up because if they didn't it would be more than a waste of the day and Church would have another day's lead on him.

This was hardly the first time he had spent hours waiting to ambush somebody but every time he had to do the same thing again it got more and more boring. There was honestly nothing one could do when waiting around like this. It was important that he stayed alert and didn't let his mind wander but it was very difficult in such bleak and dull situations. No matter how much he tried to stave off his boredom his mind continued to wander into the realms of reminiscence.

**XXX**

_Kanièn:keh region, 1760.. 18 years earlier.._

Haytham carefully picked his way down the rather steep slope, sliding to a halt at the edge of a sandy river bank. The hillside continued behind him and to the right, the lake out in front of him and a large rocky outcrop to his left. He judged that he was facing North, travelling the wrong way. Shit. He turned to head back up the hill but deemed it too steep to climb back up. He could tackle it but it would take most of his energy and he still had to travel south to back to Boston.

He had been travelling through the frontier with Charles and the others when a group of redcoats had decided to try their luck in dispatching them. Unfortunately they had missed the snitch as he ran and called for more guards. The onslaught of men with muskets became too much and Haytham insisted he would distract them whilst the others ran to safety. The number had overwhelmed even him so he had run, evidently in the wrong direction.

He hadn't stopped until he was well and truly lost in the woodlands of the frontier. He at least now knew which direction he had been heading in. He would have to double back on himself but without being able to climb the trees he had difficulty getting to a high point to gauge direction.

With a heavy sigh he clambered up onto the rock outcrop beside him. It got him a little higher up but he still couldn't see over the hills behind him. He could, however, see the lake to the North and a

surprising wooden palisade to the left which had once been blocked by the rock he now stood on. It was common knowledge that many native tribes lived in the area, he had met with members of at least three clans in his time here, but he hadn't expected to run into one of their compounds. His mind was suddenly filled with images of Ziio and his time with her. He vigorously shook his head, thinking of her so often was a weakness.

A sudden sound brought him back to the where he was. He was used to hearing all sorts of animal noises in the frontier but this was distinctly human. And from children, not adults. There were the echoes of children's joyous laughter. They must be playing. Quite nearby too if he could hear them from this distance.

Normally Haytham steered clear of people when travelling through the frontier, he could never be sure of who was truly friend or foe. But hearing children's laughter had caught his attention. He wanted to investigate the source. After all, it was nearly dark, perhaps he could barter his way to a bed for the night.

Haytham carefully picked his way down the rocks and rounded the sandy banks to find a path leading up to a break in the palisade He continued along the edge of the fencing, minding the entrance carefully, following the source of the laughter. He ran along for a couple more metres and found a second entrance. He slowly crossed the path and was just about to take a peek inside when a voice spooked him.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton!"

Haytham managed to hide just before the owner of the voice appeared from the entrance of the camp. He crouched low amongst the bushes just beside the opening, his eyes trained on the figure approaching. The owner of the voice was a woman, one he recognised immediately.

"Ziio.." He thought he was being quiet but in his surprise he was clearly louder than he'd hoped as her eyes were drawn straight to him. He watched as surprise flickered over her face.

"Haytham."

He was very tempted to step out and greet her, the amount of times he had thought about her in the past few years was truly beyond count. At times he truly missed her, he felt like he had loved her. Maybe he still did. But just as he was about to step out of his hiding spot she raised a hand, signalling him to stop. Her reason for doing so came racing on the scene, stopping in front of her oblivious to the hidden man.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton.." The boy responded in their language and the two continued to speak. He could only assume that she had been calling his name for he knew little of their language, he couldn't even pronounce her name properly. She ruffled his hair and smiled at him. The gesture confused him slightly until he caught sight of the boy's face.

His eyes widened and he felt like he could honestly keel over in shock. The boy was pretty much the spitting image of himself. She was clearly his Mother and the boy's age gave it away instantly. He had a son, one he would never get to know nor probably see again. But he had never expected to have a family in his life, in his line of work. So why did he care? The boy had his Mother, she would treat him well.

The young boy ran off to play again and Ziio's eyes returned to him. There was no denying she knew he'd realised. He smiled softly at her and dipped his head before slowly backing off, away from the camp and his son.

**XXX**

_Present day.._

The slightest smirk tugged at his lips as he was drawn out of his memories. He hadn't seen Ziio since that day and he still missed her often. Her face didn't plague him as much in later years but when she did enter his mind he found himself wondering what life would have been like if she hadn't cut all ties with him.

Would they have managed to be the happy family most normal people dreamed of? The two of them and their little boy? Would they have had more children? A little house outside Boston? All these thoughts would run through his head and then his common sense would remind him that it was never what he wanted. He had worked hard to earn his position as Grand Master, he had built up the Templar influence in the colonies himself, set up the strong base they had. Well, that damned Assassin was tearing it all to pieces but he had still worked hard!

He readjusted his position on the rafters, standing as much as the low roof allowed him to in order to alleviate the strain on his legs from constant crouching. He was beginning to tire of all this waiting around. He could see the boots of another redcoat patrol through the doorway but other than those men and the occasional small creature there was no sign of life at the abandoned church.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he crouched back down. The boy was playing heavily on his mind, as he often had over the past eighteen years. He couldn't really call him a boy anymore. He was a man. But it wasn't like he hadn't seen him since that day. Far from it..

**XXX**

_Green Dragon Tavern, Boston 1773.. 5 years earlier.._

"Johnson's dead!" Haytham lifted his head and regarded his close friend as he came crashing through the Tavern's door.

"What do you mean?"

"What do you think I mean?!" Charles Lee was not a man to panic but he seemed thoroughly flustered by this news. He dropped into the chair opposite his boss and best friend and waved over the waitress with a beer. "An assassin took out William."

That was disturbing news indeed. He was sure he had wiped out almost all of the assassins in an attack a few years previously but there was one he had missed? "Are you sure it was an assassin?"

"Definitely. I have called the others in. Pitcairn can't make it but the rest shall be here soon. We seriously need to discuss this. He needs to be wiped out and quickly. We cannot risk the revival of the Assassin's Brotherhood."

Haytham agreed with his friend completely. If there was a new assassin around, one that had successfully taken out one of their order, he needed to be erased. That was the way it had been for years, Templars and Assassins were sworn enemies.

"Who would have trained him? I thought we got rid of them all."

"Davenport. Nobody ever found the man. Must be getting on by now but he could quite easily train an apprentice if one were to find him." Haytham toyed with the edge of his hat which sat on the table in front of him. "He must be good if he got Johnson so easily, keeping off the radar."

"We'd 'eard of 'im." Thomas Hickey strolled in and with Benjamin Church hot on his tail and dropped into a chair. Church hovered behind him.

"You'd heard of him? You failed to mention this to me, Thomas." Haytham glared at the man. This was serious business and he had just kept it to himself.

"We thought we could 'andle it. Me and Benjy 'ere." He gestured over his shoulder. "William 'ad noticed 'im, told us about 'im."

"I am still struggling to see why you kept this from me. I am the Grand Master, boys, that means all important information goes back to me!" He sighed heavily. "Who is this assassin, do we know?"

"Some kid.. Goes by the name of Connor. No last name." Charles shrugged his shoulders. "We don't know all that much about him. We have seen him before. Do you remember that riot a few years back? Here in Boston?"

"We have been to several riots, Charles, we usually cause them, remember?"

The man just looked at him and continued in his explanation. "About three years ago, the people were rising up. I took a shot, set them all off. He was on the roof opposite, I looked right at him. Native-"

"Native Indian.. Yes, I remember him. I spotted him, my marksmen weren't quick enough. What's his real name then?"

"Ah yes, we do know that much." It was the first time Benjamin had spoken up since arriving. "Ratonhnhaké:ton is his native name. I heard it along the grapevine."

The men continued to speak amongst themselves but Haytham could only hear buzzing, no words permeated through. Ratonhnhaké:ton. He remembered that name despite his inability to pronounce native names. The boy was his son? If he focused hard enough on the memory of the young man perched on the rooftop over the body of one of his men he could see his face. There was no doubting it was his son.

So, the boy had turned out to be an assassin? It seemed the world was having a laugh at his expense. For years he'd wondered if he would ever see the boy again and now he had turned up. And one of them would have to kill the other. If he wasn't so stunned by the situation he would have laughed. He had to kill his own flesh and blood. Yes, as a boy he had turned his back on his Father and his way of life and had run off to mainland Europe with Reginald for his training, but he had never thought of killing the man. He had just left the old assassin alone. But if Connor was taking out his friends and colleagues then there was only one option.

"Haytham, you with us?" Charles looked slightly concerned and he realised he'd been quiet for quite some time at this point.

"Yeah, what gives 'aytham? What we gonna do about this assassin then?"

Haytham considered his companions in turn, wondering just how long Connor could run before one of them ended him permanently. Truth be told, he wished that if anyone took the boy out it was him. He helped bring him into the world he should be the one to take him back out of it again. He picked up his glass and downed the remaining alcohol, swiped his hat off the table and stood.

"Kill the little shit. Good evening, gentlemen." He nodded his head and walked away with a disturbing calm for a man who had just sentenced his son to death.

**XXX**

_Present day.._

The sound of rapidly approaching horse hooves forced the man into an alert state, poised and ready to jump upon the intruder. He heard the sounds of a rider jumping from his horse and the footsteps changed from that of hitting snow to hitting the wooden floor of the church. A hooded figure appeared beneath him and he rose to a standing position before jumping onto their back.

The man beneath him turned but it was too late, he grunted as the weight of Haytham landed on top of him. Haytham held his hand just a foot away from the man's throat, ready to strike if needed but recognition momentarily paralysed him.

"Hello Father."

"Connor." He smirked down at the young man. The others had failed to dispatch him so far but it seemed it was now his chance to get rid of the assassin once and for all. "Any last words?"

"Wait." The boy looked smug, convinced he was going to get out of this. But Haytham would not be beaten so easily, he had several years of experience on him. But he was most definitely his son, through and through.

"Poor choice."


End file.
